


Back from the Dead

by animefreak



Category: Highlander: The Series, Raven (1992)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Loss, chose between lovers, return from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-23
Updated: 2010-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 08:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animefreak/pseuds/animefreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kesh discovers Gary isn't dead and has to make a choice ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back from the Dead

Back from the Dead

July 1950

The small dark eyed, dark haired woman sat staring blindly into the dark. In her arms lay the fragile husk of the man she had loved. He had ceased to breathe an hour earlier, but she couldn’t bring herself to let him go, even as the body grew cool to the touch. Gary was gone. They had tried for five years to keep him alive; to find a cure for the blood disorder that slowly took him away from her.

Her eyes burned, dry from her unblinking stare. Finally, she blinked, looked down into his peaceful face and admitted he was gone. She gently laid him down on the bed, his head against the pillows. “Good bye,” she said softly and went to arrange for the death certificate, the funeral, the burial.

Three days passed. The doctor had no problem with the death, knowing that it had been only a matter of time. The funeral was well attended, family, friends, foundation personnel, everyone loved her companion. And they avoided her, no one knowing exactly what to say to a companion in that day and age. Finally, they gathered at the grave, said their final good byes, and left her standing beside the open grave, alone.

She dropped in a dozen roses, all different colors, one at a time. She was devastated, desolate, a void standing beside the opening into the earth. “Good bye. I love you, darling.” She reached down to the dirt, took a handful, and dropped it on the polished wooden surface at the bottom of the grave. Then she turned and walked away, out of the cemetery, out of the lives of the people who had surrounded the two of them. She walked away leaving all of it behind her.

 

1965

Darkness. Suffocating darkness. Trying to breathe, to focus, to find light. Where was he? What was he doing here? He’d just closed his eyes, just for a minute, that was all. He’d been so tired, each breath was a fight, each heartbeat. What had happened? Where was Kesh? Where was he? He tried to lift his arms. Thunk. Fingertips slid across the surface above him, so close above him. It shredded under his probing.

God! No! Buried! Dammit! She’d buried him alive! He yelled his denial in the darkness. The sound was loud in his ears, echoing, confined within the small area of the coffin. He pushed at the surface above him, dislodging small wriggling things, worms and other destroyers of flesh. It dawned on him that he had been there for a while.

He screamed and continued screaming until his ears no longer heard the sound, until his lungs collapsed from lack of oxygen, until he lapsed into an unconscious state again.

Darkness. Madness. Despair. He cycled through all of these again and again. And then something changed. He heard a sound outside of his cramped arena of existence. It sounded like a machine. It was a machine. Someone was digging nearby. He could feel the vibrations through the ground. Help? Please? Someone hear him? He started thumping on the side of his coffin. Please, God, let someone hear him. Let someone help him.

The gravedigger stopped his work, shutting off the engine of the small backhoe he was digging up a new grave. Thump. Thump. He frowned at the sound. He looked around. He was alone. He shook his head and climbed down from the backhoe. Thump. Thump. He heard it clearly now. He looked around. The new grave was very close to an old one. He leaned over. Thump. Thump. No. No way. Thump. Thump. The man backed away, his eyes getting big and round and then he turned and ran.

Thump. Thump.

A tall, dark haired man walking through the cemetery heard the noise. Curious, he came toward the new grave. He looked in. Empty. Thump. Thump. Not in the grave, next to it. Oh, hell. He looked at the backhoe, discovered the key in the ignition and turned the machine on. Swiftly, he demolished the dirt separating the next grave from the open one. With a crack, he broke through the rotted wood of a coffin. He turned the machine off, jumping down and into the open grave. Swiftly, he pulled wood away and made an opening. A hand, slender, dirty, the nails ripped up, reached out and grabbed him.

“It’s all right. I’m getting you out. You’ll be OK.” The Scots lilt to the voice was somehow reassuring to the man coming out of the coffin.

A few minutes and he had the buried man out of the disintegrating coffin. He took a quick look around and hurriedly pulled himself out of the grave and turned back to give the other man a hand out. The surface of the grave in which he’d lain collapsed, filling the empty space within the coffin.

The man looked back and shuddered.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He was aware that there was no indication the man he had just rescued was one of his own kind. Yet the condition of his clothing indicated he had been in the grave for a long time. He had to be an Immortal.

He bundled the man into his car and drove away as the gravedigger returned with help. Well, that would leave them with a mystery on their hands. “Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod,” he introduced himself to the man.

“Gary -- Gary Windom,” the other man responded in a voice that sounded too long unused. He was still looking at the world in wonder. He looked at his hands, strong and well muscled. He stared at them in wonder. The last time he’d seen them, they were pale, frail and nearly useless. He didn’t understand what had happened.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long ago did you - die?” There was the faintest hesitation in the other man’s voice.

“I didn’t -- did I?” Gary sounded bewildered.

The sound was a normal one for those who had just become aware of their difference. And yet, there was no resonance between the two of them. Duncan was just beginning to realize this. “Yes, you did. The grave I broke you out of was not a new one.”

Gary regarded him wildly for a moment, then took in the longish hair, the clothing Duncan wore. “The last thing I remember, it was 1950,” he said in almost a whisper.

“It’s been 15 years,” Duncan told him, keeping a wary eye on the man for his reaction, while continuing to drive toward the hotel where he was staying.

“That’s --- “ he looked at Duncan as though seeing him for the first time. “You’re an Immortal,” he said quietly. “That’s why you’re not disturbed by all this.”

It was Duncan’s turn to look disturbed. “You know about Immortals?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes. Kesh told me about them.”

Duncan could hear the sadness in the other man’s voice. “Who’s Kesh?” he asked gently.

“Keshthal Dah bosh Neth.”

The name was unfamiliar. Duncan shook his head to indicate that he did not know the name. “Not familiar. But there are a lot of them I don’t know.”

“Kesh said that. But that doesn’t explain --”

“You.”

“No. Kesh said she could always feel other Immortals when they were near. I don’t feel -- anything.”

“I’ve noticed. There’s no indication that you’re one of us. Which doesn’t explain how you came to be alive and trying to get out of that grave fifteen years after you were put in it.”

“No. It doesn’t. Kesh wouldn’t have known -- I guess I need to find her.”

“I’ll help.”

Several days later, Gary realized that Kesh was nowhere to be found. Instead of running the foundation they’d established, she had walked away from it. “I don’t believe this. That -- she left. She just flat left.”

“It was time. You were gone. Nothing to hold her here.”

He turned on the man who had pulled him out of the grave, anger firing his eyes and voice. “There were people relying on her. She should have stayed.”

Duncan’s eyes grew cold, distant. “Should she? If you were as close as you’ve said, your death left her with nothing to hold her here. The foundation seems to be doing well enough.”

He thought about that. “Yeah. And it’s not as though I need it. Although it does seem to be doing some good.”

“That’s all you can really ask.”

“So, how do you find one of you who’s wandered off?”

Duncan looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“I love Kesh,” he answered glibly. Oh, yes. He loved the bitch who buried him and left him to rot. A part of his mind was worried by this train of thought. Surely, it argued, if she had known he would come back, she would not have buried him and left. But she did. She did. She did. The thought kept hammering at his brain. She had buried him and left him to the darkness, the rotting, the airless home of decay. And she had *known*. If the man beside him knew, then *she* had also and she had abandoned him, cast him off like so much decaying flesh.

// If she had known and wished to discard you, she’d have taken your head. She didn’t know. //

\\\ She knew. She knew. She knew. \\\

And so he began his hunt for his ex-lover, and his introduction to life as an Immortal.

Years passed, Kesh stayed out of sight, Gary and Duncan drifted in differing directions. They had agreed that whatever Gary was, he was not a part of the Immortal mythology and existence that Duncan and his friends knew. Still, he learned to use a sword, just in case someone made a mistake. He learned the mythology. He learned everything Duncan could teach him. And then they parted, friends.

He continued to search, no longer certain what he would do when he found Kesh. He hated her. He loved her. He wanted revenge. He wanted to find her and -- well, he’d deal with that when he found her. And he prayed that no one else would find her, would fight her, would take her head before he found her and his reckoning was taken.

January 1996

Duncan MacLeod looked up from his drink, aware that someone he knew had entered the bar, but not who. He looked around. A young man, golden brown hair brushing his shoulders, blue eyes adjusting to the dark interior of the bar, stood in the doorway. He looked around, spotted Duncan and smiled.

“Windom,” the Scot greeted him as he crossed the room to join the taller, dark haired man.

“Duncan. How’ve you been?” His voice was soft, melodic. The sharp edges Duncan remembered seem to have softened with time.

“Not bad. Drink?”

“Thanks.”

“Joe. Lager for my friend.”

The graying man behind the bar nodded and brought a lager for Gary, nodded companionably and went back to polishing his glasses. He kept an eye on the two men at the bar, but not so closely that it felt like they were being observed. Joe was very good at what he did.

“So, what brings you here?”

“I was looking for you.”

Danger signals went off. “Why?” he asked casually.

“I’ve found her. But someone else is looking for her as well. Or -- I’m not sure. But I’d appreciate your help in getting in touch with her.” He took a long pull at his drink and set it down. “I’m still very ambivalent about seeing her again. But I think I need to do so. What is it they call it these days? Closure?”

“Closure. You’re still angry.”

“I’m -- no. I think I understand what happened, but I’d like to hear it from her. And, yes. There’s still this irrational thought that she should have known. But I’ve run into too many of you to not understand that -- I’m something else.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I need to hear it from her.”

Duncan gave it some thought and shot a surreptitious glance at Joe who was frowning. “OK. I’ll help.”

June 1996

Hawaii

The petite woman snuggled closer to the lean length of the man she was living with. She loved the feel and the smell of him. She loved his curly dark hair, and the way his eyes lit up with he smiled at her. She loved a lot of things about him, not the least of which was his ability to take her in his stride. She leaned up and kissed his relaxed mouth. The arm nearest her slid around her waist and pulled her tight against him, his mouth becoming much less relaxed as he kissed her back.

She chuckled deep down in her throat. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

He cracked an eye open and raised an eyebrow. “Sleepy head?” His gaze strayed to a nearby clock. “It’s just after seven.”

“So, I’ve been watching you sleep for half an hour.”

“And I’ve been waiting for you to stop watching. It’s unnerving.”

“Oh. Is it? Indeed?” She wrapped her arms around him and smiled down into his eyes. “Well, how about watching you awake? Or, busy?” She nuzzled his jaw line, nibbling along the clean edge of it and trailing kisses across his cheek to his mouth.

They spent a long lazy hour exploring each other, pleasing each other, and enjoying being with each other. The interlude ended with a knock at the door. She laughed. “Let me guess ..”

With a rueful smile, he got up, wrapping a black silk kimono around his lean form, covering the black dragon tattoo on his back. “Ski.”

He was right. The stocky, graying private investigator was practically bouncing. “Jonathan,” he greeted his younger friend, actually remembering to take off his shoes before entering the house. “I’ve got a good lead this time.” He nodded to Kesh as she came out of the bedroom wearing a loose t-shirt and nothing else.

She smiled at them and went into the kitchen to start breakfast. She could hear Ski telling Jonathan that he had a solid lead on a boy who could very well be the son he sought. She hoped the boy was his son, he deserved to find the boy, to have a chance at having a family. Unfortunately, children were not something Immortals could engender or provide for their companions. Sometimes she regretted that, but to have children who were not immortal, that could be even more painful than being barren.

She swiftly prepared what she knew her companion would appreciate and brought it out to the table on the back patio. She took a quick look at the picture Ski had handed Jonathan. The boy in the photo was fine featured, pale skinned and only vaguely oriental looking. As a combination of the genetics of Jonathan and his lost love, he was just about perfect. He was standing with a small Polynesian looking woman. The writing on the back identified the child as Eric Momola, the woman as AnnaLea Momola. The picture was at least two years old.

“Where?”

Ski told him. Not too far away. They would have to contact the mother, the official father was dead in a surfing accident four years earlier. But the boy was the right age, born while the mother and father were in Japan, the then younger man stationed there for a two year tour of military duty. And the birthmark was identical to the one Aki had described.

Kesh watched the emotions cross his mobile face. He was hopeful, nervous, scared and about as on edge as he ever got. Kesh wondered if there was anything she could do to help. She had a feeling there wasn’t. This was something he would have to do on his own, with his old friend’s help. If the boy was truly his son, it would open an entire new chapter in his life. Her dark eyes watched and wondered if there was a place for an Immortal in that life.

Well, if there wasn’t, it wasn’t the first time she’d had to make it on her own. For now, she was enjoying reclaiming some of the things she’d forgotten about during her years on the streets and on the move. One of those things was her love of silk. Maybe she’d go shopping today.

At Honolulu International Airport, a 747 landed. The passengers debarked into the usual “welcome to Hawaii” tourist greetings. Artificial leis of exotic flowers were thrown over the heads of the new comers. Among them were Duncan MacLeod, Gary Windom and Adam Pierce.

Adam rolled his eyes at the profusion of greetings, but that didn’t stop him from a couple of quick hugs for the nearest charming young Hawaiian greeters. Friendly people. He glanced at his friend and the young man they were accompanying. He still didn’t understand exactly why they were helping an Immortal who didn’t resonate, but Duncan was right, the island was very, very pleasant.

“Ok, we’re here,” Adam said. “Now what?”

“Hotel,” Duncan said succinctly. He was worried about the third member of their group. The man was drawing inward the closer they got to the presumably Immortal woman he sought. Duncan didn’t think this was good. He was probably right.

 

Kesh brought breakfast out to the patio, setting a tray down on the table and carefully not intruding on the two men as she ate. Jonathan looked at the tray and cocked an eyebrow at her. There was plenty for two. She smiled at him and tossed a pair of chopsticks over.

"You heard?"

She nodded. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No. But we'll be gone a couple of days. Think you can keep yourself amused?"

"Geee -- I dunno. What will I do for two whole days?" She broke off with a bright smile. "Yes, I think I can manage. I need clothes, for one thing. Any recommendations?"

Ski frowned at her. He thought she looked fine. Then it dawned on him, that most women didn't have only two sets of clothes, the one’s drying and the one's they were wearing. Good thing she was Jonathan's girl and not his.

Jonathan recommended a couple of places at the nearest mall. He thought she would probably manage quite well once she got there. He didn't know of a woman who wouldn't. He knew a moment's concern recalling that she'd been traveling light for several decades. He wished he could go with her, to help, to just be there for her if necessary. Yet he knew he needed to check out the new lead as well. And the lead was far more ephemeral than his relationship with Kesh.

He watched her eat, her gaze straying to the horizon outside. He wondered what thoughts, what memories traveled behind her eyes. He might have been surprised to find that she was wondering much what he was, whether bringing a son into the house would change their relationship. And when it did, whether it would be for better or worse.

Neither of them suspected that it was not the elusive son for whom he searched that would change the parameters of their relationship.

 

Gary finally told Duncan and Methos who was also looking for Kesh. At least, that was his take on the ancient ninja who had been headed for Hawaii.

"A ninja?"

"A *ninja*?" Methos echoed. "Wonderful. MacLeod, it's your problem," he told the younger Immortal and headed for the hotel bar.

"Is he always like that?"

"Yes," Duncan answered with a laugh. "Tell me about the ninja."

Gary did. He knew the man was old, maybe older than Duncan, not nearly the age of Methos. He belonged to a clan of ninja assassins who were supposed to be defunct.

"Supposed to be?"

"Yeah. Historically speaking, the Black Dragons were disbanded the beginning of the nineteenth century, long after most of the other ninja clans were supposed to have been disbanded. How do you disband a clan?"

"You don't. They hide, they die, they move on, but they don't disband."

"Well, this one's still active and he's here in the islands. And everything I've seen indicates that Kesh is here, too. OK, it's a little flimsy, but she's the oldest one of you I know about. I can't see him looking for someone worth less ---"

"He might not be looking for an Immortal at all, he might be fulfilling a contract."

Gary looked appalled at the thought. "To borrow from the young of today, Euwww."

Duncan grinned. Well, he was keeping his sense of humor. That was a good sign. He hoped. "So, any leads on the lady?"

"Big Kahuna's."

 

Kesh put the last of her bags in the back of the little vehicle she’d rented. She’d been to three shops and had spent more than she’d spent on herself in a very long time. She wondered where Ski and Jonathan were, then chided herself for acting like a love sick teenager. She smiled at the thought. Her stomach made noises about it being past noon and not having been fed for a while. She stopped at Big Kahuna’s for a bite to eat.

Duncan and Methos were aware of the arrival of the Immortal before Kesh came through the front door. Kesh was aware of the presence of an Immortal of curious strength as she walked in. She scanned the room, missing Duncan’s presence as he was sitting with his back to her. But she saw Methos. Her eyes widened in recognition.

“Miss Kesh,” BK greeted her, knowing that she was Jonathan Raven’s current lady.

She smiled at him, gave him her order and walked over to the table where Methos sat ignoring the approach of an Immortal. “So, what * are * you calling yourself these days?” she asked softly.

His startled look turned to one of pleasure as he stood up and accepted her hug of greeting. She addressed him softly in Roman Latin, asking the question again and telling him he was looking good for a man his age. They both grinned.

“Pierce. Adam Pierce.”

“Adam – It has been a very long time.”

“Yes. It has.” He looked into her dark eyes and felt the centuries turn back.

Kesh had been small and brown and difficult when they first met. As one of the dreaded Four Horsemen of legend, he was used to even Immortal women running from him. He had no qualms about taking the head of a female Immortal. But Kesh had stood there, her head tilted to one side like a foolish brown bird, and nearly dared him to take a swing at her.

“What’s the matter? Lost your nerve?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Mind you, I can think of quite a number of things I prefer to taking heads.” She gave him the once over. “Not a bad head, of course, but I stopped collecting ages ago. Got tired of all the extraneous memories.”

He regarded her curiously. “And just * what * else might you have in mind?

“The usual.”

“I have slaves.”

“Older than you? More experienced than you? Once dedicated to pleasing or just stuck with doing so since they were luckless enough to be taken by you?”

“There’s a difference?” his answer was insolent.

She shrugged her golden brown shoulders. “Interested enough to find out?”

“I can always take your head later, I suppose.”

“Oh, no. This is a once only sort of an offer. You either do, or you don’t, now.”

“Then, I suppose I do.”

He never did challenge her to fight.

He still thought of her fondly, when he thought of her at all. Facing her now, he recalled the warmth of their short liason. A slight clearing of the throat brought him back to the present. He looked around. Duncan had his eyebrows raised slightly and Gary was looking as though he was seeing a ghost or someone he hadn’t thought to see quite so soon.

“Ah – Duncan MacLeod and – Gary Windam.”

Kesh had turned to greet her friend’s companions. Duncan she had heard of and was offering a friendly smile and her hand to him when she caught sight of Gary. The color drained out of her face as her eyes met his. The world spun far more swiftly than normal and the light went out. For one of the few times in her very long life, Kesh fainted.

Adam caught her as she went limp. Whatever reaction Gary had expected, this was not it. He was around the table, helping Methos, before he was aware of moving. He took her into his arms and looked around for someplace to take her, to lay her down.

BK, noticing the problem, was there in a moment, ushering them into a back room where she could recover at her leisure. He made certain three men were not a problem and went back out to his customers.

Kesh returned to consciousness to find a worried Methos bending over her. She blinked at him and gave him a smile. “I really don’t faint all that often,” she murmured. “I just had the oddest experience –“

“I know. Back from the dead,” was his response.

Her eyes widened and she sat up swiftly, looking around. One good looking dark haired man looking sort of early thirties and one sandy haired, boyish man she had last seen fifty years ago when she relinquished his body to the undertaker. She stared at him in disbelief. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. Her eyes asked the questions.

“We don’t know,” Duncan answered her unspoken questions.

She looked at him and blinked. “You don’t?”

“No.”

She looked back at Gary. “It * is * you? But I don’t feel anything – I mean – you’re not – “

“No, apparently I’m not,” he agreed in an exasperated tone.

“Sorry. You’ve probably been over all that territory with MacLeod and Methos.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Pissed, I take it.”

“Very.”

She nodded. “We could work it out, sword to sword, I suppose.”

“Taking my head won’t do you any good.”

“Nor will taking mine do you any –“

“Might make me feel better about being buried alive and left.”

“Would it?”

Their eyes met, his angry, hers soft and lifeless. “No.” The word was wrung from him, from some depth that still cared tremendously about this immortal. “Dammit – you knew.”

“I did not. If I can’t sense you now, what makes you think I could tell then? You died. You were gone.”

“Where the hell did you go? You left.”

“There was nothing there, there was no reason to stay.”

Methos and Duncan made the silent communication that now was a good time to leave the two alone and vanished from the room. There were good drinks and lovely ladies to watch outside while the two inside settled whatever there was to settle. Methos frowned over this somewhat muddled perspective and ordered a beer.

“There was the foundation.”

“It was running fine. It still is.”

“So, you check back on it –“

“From time to time. I send in donations, and check on the personnel and how the – the – they haven’t found a cure, yet.” Her face reflected her inability to completely comprehend what had happened to her lover. “I – I – I – oh, boy. I really don’t have the words – I never expected to see you again. You were – dead.”

He searched her face for some sign that she had known, that she had deliberately deserted him, that she had left him to the darkness. It wasn’t there. The only thing he saw was her wonder, her sorrow. He reached for her, pulled her into his arms. For a moment, she hesitated, then she threw her arms around him and returned his hug with a fierceness she had seldom experienced. They stood there for a very long time just getting used to each other again.

Finally, they drew apart. Kesh grinned up at him. “It’s been a while,” she said softly. “Oh, hell.”

“New boyfriend?”

“Uh – well – kinda.”

“Kesh –“

She put a finger on his lips. “I know. I – need some time. This is – really unexpected.”

“I know. I’ve spent – thirty five years looking for you. Where did you go?”

“I – I walked.”

“What?”

“I – walked. I left the cemetery, I walked back to our place, changed clothes and walked out. I – There was nothing there for me without you, and you were – dead.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. All the memories were in my head. All the things – they were just – things. There was no life without you.” She turned away, tears stinging her eyes. “I was probably lucky I didn’t run into another of my kind. I could have died then and never regretted it. Even knowing it was coming, it hurt. The light went with you. It took – it took a very long time to find another light.”

“The man you’re with now?”

She started to nod, then shook her head. “No. His cousin. She sent me here, in a way. She was a light. Like you, she was dieing. She was trying to find the man I’m staying with now. But her passing didn’t take the light away. I think I finally found a way to keep the light with me and let the dark go.”

“There’s a ninja after you,” he changed the subject suddenly.

She looked back around at him, laughter lighting her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Kesh, this isn’t a – you’ve already met?”

“Yes.”

He relaxed slightly. “Leave it to you.”

“Always. Now, I think we should rejoin your friends. How the hell did you take up with Methos? And don’t drink with him. He can drink just about anyone under the table.”

“Including you?”

“Yes. If I ever gave him a chance to do so, which I won’t.”

“Smart and pretty. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You loved me, without reservation, in spite of what I am.”

They eyes met again. Kesh held her breath for a moment as all the old feelings came flooding back. How was she going to explain this one to Jonathan?

The best thing to do was make a clean breast of it, immediately. She ate lunch with her old friend, Gary and Duncan MacLeod. She told them about Jonathan. Duncan looked concerned.

“He’s not going to take this well,” he voiced his opinion his soft Highland lilt.

“No, he’s not. But I don’t see any other way to handle this. I – I care deeply about Jonathan. But Gary – There’s no way I can just let this go.”

“Well, at least you’re not trying to kill each other,” came Methos’ wry comment.

“Yeah. There is that.”

He was aware that she was behind him, aware of her as he was aware of few other people. He continued to hold his meditational pose. He could feel his anger, just under the surface. He was angry with her for insinuating herself in his life, for lying to him, for - for --

"Jonathan."

He ignored her.

She stood directly behind him, exactly where she knew his finely honed senses would play the most havoc with him. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to say."

"There isn't? A man fifty years dead and buried walks back into my life, manages to not kill me, asks me to give him a chance and there's nothing to say?"

"You've already decided." He stared at the water, refusing to turn toward her, refusing to let her see the hurt.

"I've decided? Or you have?"

He stiffened at that. "You're going with him," he pointed out softly.

"Yes."

"End of talk."

"No."

He turned, one smooth motion from seated to standing and facing her, his anger burning in his dark eyes, a slight breeze ruffling his curly dark hair. His face was almost closed to her, his body tense in spite of his attempt to stay relaxed. "What more is there to say?"

"I love you."

His eyes dropped from hers, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "Right."

She stepped onto the wooden platform, stepping in close to him, invading his personal space but not touching him. "Jonathan Raven, you are as bull headed a specimen as I've met." That brought those eyes back around to look at her. "Has it ever occurred to you that not all humans are meant to have only one love? I have loved before, deeply. Wondrously. Never quite the same twice, but always deep enough, lasting enough that they are always with me. I love you. I love Gary, also."

He tried to keep his anger to shield him, to keep the soul deep hurt at bay. Yet gazing into those dark brown eyes he knew she spoke the truth. He could see the warmth in her eyes, the caring. "It won't work," he told her.

"I know." Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. "I know. Time and ingrained understandings are against us." She reached up and touched his face with one hand, stroking his cheek, wishing she could break all conventions and get him to do so also, yet she could see the walls already beginning to close in, to separate them, to protect him. "I won't stop caring. I won't stop wanting, and he knows that. He's had time to begin to adjust to being very, very long lived. It's so different then. Don't forget me."

He caught the small brown skinned hand in his, holding it to his cheek, feeling her warmth, taking in the feel and smell of her. Instinct won over self-preservation. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, one last kiss. She melted against him, both of them oblivious to the medium height man who started to step out of the house into the yard, noticed them and stepped back in. Methos rolled his eyes expressively and went to make certain neither Mac nor Gary stumbled on the scene in the back yard.

She stood with her head resting against his shoulder, safe within the circle of his arms. "Oh, Jonathan. I wish - "

He placed a finger against her lips. "No. No regrets."

She looked up and smiled. "None?"

"None."

She accepted that, the anger seemed to have receded from his eyes. "Jonathan."

"What?"

"Will you remember something for me?"

"What?" he repeated, a little wary now.

"If you need us, we will help. If you need a place, for you, for your son. I'll leave you a number. It will always find me. All right?"

He regarded her for a moment, considering. He saw no ulterior motives in her face, only sincere concern, caring. He nodded wordlessly. "All right. Give it to Ski, too?"

"Good idea," she agreed with a laugh. She hugged him tightly and then let him go. She stepped back, turned and ran lightly across the grass to the house where Gary waited for her.

He watched her vanish into the darker interior of his home. This time, it didn't hurt as much as he had thought it would. He knew, deep within, that the flame they had ignited still burned within her. He knew that the love he felt would not turn cold, or angry. He knew that this was different, somehow, from other loves. He wished them luck as he returned to his meditation.

Inside, she joined Methos, Duncan and Gary. All three looked at her curiously.

"It's ok."

"You're sure?" Gary needed to know that there would be no problems for her from this. And none for him.

"Yes."

"You love him?"

"Yes." Gary looked troubled again. "And I love you. For all society's insistence that only one love per person is right, society is wrong. I can and have loved more than one other human several times. In times where this was acceptable, we managed. When it isn't, I have to make choices."

"Me over him?"

"No. Jonathan isn't quite ready yet for that much closeness. He thinks he is, he's trying to be. But his background is not one built on trust and caring. He's almost there, and he soon will be. I think there's a very, very strong woman in his future. One who can hold her own, yet needs the strengths he has to offer. Together, they will build a home, a place he can be, a place he can bring his son, when he finds him."

"When?" Methos questioned.

"Not "if"?" Duncan added.

She looked at both of them thoughtfully. "Nope. Definitely a 'when' scenario. Libby's portrait doesn't lie. Now, let's get out of here."

"Who's Libby?" Methos asked as they closed the gate to Jonathan's house behind them and piled into the late model convertible Duncan had rented.

"Long story. I'll tell you on the trip." She frowned for a moment. "Uh, guys - where exactly *are* we going?" She regarded the three mischievous grins warily.

 

A week later:

"Jonathan - Jonathan!" Ski wandered through the house and into the back yard where his young friend was blindfolded and working on his staff technique.

In quick succession, the black clad man put out a half dozen candles burning in tall rattan holders. The end of his staff never touched one of them. He froze and cocked his head sideways. "Don't you ever remember to take off your shoes?" he asked. It was almost a joke between them, Jonathan's oriental insistence on removing shoes before entering his home and Ski's chronic inability to remember to do so.

"Uh - sometimes. I got a letter."

"From?"

"Her."

"And?"

"She sent me an 800 number."

"Good."

"She says it's in case. In case of what?"

Jonathan set the end of his staff on the ground and removed the blindfold. He met Ski's open gaze. "In case we ever need it," he told his friend.

"For what?"

Jonathan grinned at that. "For a bolt hole, a safe haven, a place to rest."

"In case of Dragons, huh?"

"Something like that. She sent me something, too."

"What?"

Jonathan led the way inside. On a side table stood a glass case containing a beautiful oriental doll. The kimono was exquisite brocade, over underlying silk kimonos in the ancient style. Unlike most dolls, it was not carefully coiffed in the elaborate styles still affected by the geishas of Japan. Hair like silk fell to her feet, obscuring the doll's face as she seemed to be looking down over the edge of the bamboo platform on which she stood. There was a small plaque attached to the base. Li Shan.

"Why can't you see her face?"

"I don't know."

"You sure *she* sent it to ya?"

Jonathan looked at his friend oddly, then walked over to the trashcan and pulled the wrapping paper out of it. He looked at the air bill on the wrapper. He frowned. Odd, he had been certain Kesh had sent this to him, yet there was no "sender" listed on the air bill, and it had been sent over night delivery from Kyoto. He frowned at the doll. He sensed nothing about the doll or the container. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped the paper back into the trash.

"No. But who else?"

Who else indeed.

Fin.


End file.
